


Prison 8itch

by Bobsled_Hostage



Series: Vriskat Tomfoolery [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Mind Control, Prison, Prison Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobsled_Hostage/pseuds/Bobsled_Hostage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Incarcerated on one of the Alternian Empire's prison hell worlds, Karkat Vantas accepts an inmate's offer of protection, for a price</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prison 8itch

You've practiced being inconspicuous and surly your whole life, maybe it'll keep people from antagonizing you during your lifelong stay on whichever unnamed prison hell world the drones have dropped you off on. Your perpetual scowl and angry slouch will hopefully be enough to deter a thousand violent sociopaths from picking on the runt with the illegal cherry red sludge for blood.

It doesn't work.

Two nights in a burly olive troll at least several sweeps older than yourself has you cornered against a wall, a crowd of other midbloods looking on. They'd heard from one of the clerical drones that you bled an interesting color and decided they wanted a taste themselves.

"Gonna splitchya open and see whatchya look like onna inside, ya fuckin mutie-"

The greenblood freezes with an expression of pure terror on her face when her hands move over her neck, not of her own accord. As her fingers begin to tear at her own throat a vicious looking troll emerges from the crowd, eight blue pupils gleaming through narrowed eyes, a snaggletoothed and disturbing smile playing across her face.

"Heyyyyyyyy there new me8t," she reaches to take your arm while the greenblood tears out her own squawk blister, "you look like you could use someone to w8tch out for you" she leads you away from the squirming remains of your assailant.

You make it clear in no uncertain terms that you know she'll expect something terrible from you in return, and if it was possible for her grin to unsettle you more you're sure it would now.

"I'm sure we can arr8nge something" she whispers in your ear with a wink, claws piercing your shoulder.

"What happens if I tell you to fuck off?"

"Then next time I let them h8ve you, idi8t"

You know what's going to happen if you try to go it alone. Even at the price she's asking, it's still the best offer you're likely to find.

The spot she's staked out as hers is a slightly less dingy room than the others, decorated with a large pile of shredded cloth and a few cardboard boxes holding whatever she's been able to scavenge. When she shoves you down onto the pile you're barely able to choke out an insult in return. You are afraid, and she knows you are afraid, and this earns another bark of laughter when you move to stop her pulling off your shirt.

"Go ah8d, st8n the only clothes you own" She hisses, and your trembling hands go to remove the ragged pair of pants the drones handed you. You've barely managed to bare your ass when she mounts you roughly, shoving your face into the pile. You want to break free, to run, but there's nowhere that would be safer, and there's nothing here you didn't agree to. Her bulge slowly curls its way into you and the smell of musty fabric fills your nose as you press your face down to keep quiet. You've been angry and sick with yourself your whole life but you've never clenched your teeth together this tightly, never hated yourself as much as you do now. You try and you can't force yourself to ignore the tearing-feeling of being forced open, her hands icy on your hips while the wet sound of her pelvis slapping against your ass fills your ears.

"Ffuuuuuuuuuck you're tight, if this is your f8rst time I'm going to- oh f8ck, oh f8ck"

She spurts messily inside you and you come to the sickening realization that this is why she chose a room with a drain in the floor. Of course there aren't any buckets here. She withdraws and begins to wipe down with one of the rags. At least your first time ended quickly. Your legs don't feel up to the task of squatting, but you haul drag yourself over the small metal grate and prop yourself upright enough for most of her frigid slurry to empty out of you.

When it's over she tugs you against her in a sick parody of a flushed embrace, grunting about how f8cking freezing it is. Apparently your role as 'coon-warmer is more than just a euphemism. You try to imagine a different pair of cool highblood arms in a vise around you, soft polka dotted fabric and greasepaint instead of rough blankets and a set of calloused fingers clutching your arm.

A couple hours later you wake up to a series of thinkpan-rending shrieks from the troll tangled with you in the pile. Sopor's contraband and you heard the screams your first couple of nights, it only makes sense that she'd have daymares too. Gradually the panicked shouts subside into moans, which fade into whimpers quiet enough that you can approach something like a decent day's sleep wrapped in her loathsome hold.

The second time she says she's going to "8reak your mouth in." You know better than to refuse, and in no time at all you're drooling around her swollen bulge. Squeezing your eyes shut, you gag when she presses your face down around the engorged tendril, hands fisting in your hair, curling around the chipped remains of one of your nubby horns. Every time you come up for air she snickers at you, if your mouth wasn't occupied buying your survival for another night you'd be grinding your teeth down to the roots.

"Fuck, may8e next time I'll start at the other end, so you can t8ste yourself"

That thought must have been enough to set her off, because her bulge spasms in your throat, you're now desperately swallowing to keep up with the torrent of genetic material you were completely unprepared for. Your hands scrabble against her thighs, your airsacks strain for breath while she holds you in place until she's finished. She slides out with a satisfied sigh and you wish you had something to wash your mouth out with, or that you could risk going out at this time of day. After that she rolls over and ignores you, and you cherish the few inches of space between you in the pile as you clench your fists hard enough to draw blood with your blunt nails.

The fifth night the mealdrones make their weekly drop. You haven't been able to scavenge anything until now, and desperation prompts you to brave the crowd of shouting, hungry, angry trolls much larger than yourself. You get stomped flat for trying, and it's only your "8odyguard"'s violent intervention that saves you. The next session in the pile she lasts longer than usual, giving you plenty of visible bite marks to encourage "those 8ucket kickers to keep their gru88y h8nds off wh8ts mine." You've loosened enough that her needle-teeth sinking into you now hurt more than her bulge. That should make the rest of your life more bearable, you think, and your nutrition cistern lurches again. Afterward she tosses you some of the jerky she managed to grab during the scrum, "gotta feed you something 8esides 8ulge." Gnawing it you discover how meat tastes with the aftertaste of day old genetic material still in the back of your throat.

This time is different. After her attempts at what could charitably be called foreplay fail to coax your bulge from its sheath, she decides to forego subtlety entirely and applies her mental talents to the task. She'd given you a taste of her powers, mostly using them to open your mouth a little wider, coax your legs a little farther apart. You were almost used to the feeling of her fucking you, but this is infinitely worse, your mind saying I'm only doing this to survive while your body suddenly says yes yes fuck please yes. It's a whole new kind of violating. You squeeze your eyes shut to stop pale pink tears from seeping out while she jerks you off in time to her thrusts. You can't just lie back and wait for it to be over when she wants you like this, when she's got your squirming genitals trapped in her hand while her bulge plunges into you in a way that feels good because she tells a part of your head it does.

"Fucking c8m already if you know wh8ts good for you"

She accompanies with a grab at your thinkpan's most primal lowblood pailing instincts and in an instant you're spurting in her hand, teeth ripping the blanket to avoid moaning as you shoot your disgustingly red seed all over your chest.  You lie back in the pile and try not to sob, sticky with sweat, tears and slurry, while your paramour lights a spliff of some hivegrown narcotic she managed to steal.  

“May8e I should start renting you out”  She lies back and takes a pull, “probably make a 8undle, watch you 8low 8right red everywhere while they fill you up.”  Your panicked expression earns you a punch to the shoulder, “Relax idiot, I’m fucking with you.”  You fumble for a dry rag to wipe down with.  “Nobody gets to 8reak my toys 8ut me”

She whimpers a name in her sleep and holds you like she would a moirail, clinging to you rather than clutching you to her chest. You want to vomit, or scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Started this one a long time ago and forgot about it until now. The ending isn't much, I might add another chapter later if I think of anything good, but I don't see it happening.


End file.
